The wedding of Constance Grimmer and Ralph Howlett precipitated many changes. Mrs.
Grimmer had been in poor health for some years and now Mr. Grimmer sought an easier life
for her. They moved to Hockwold where he had secured the job of manager at Mounts Lime
Works. They lived close by at Downham House which was provided by the company. My
grandmother Florence retired from the Chequers and was installed in a small cottage in
Short Beck. The Howlett's butchers shop was

transferred to Commerce House and with the help of a mortgage, my parents Robert and
Edna, took the bold step of buying the shop at Commerce House. Our living accommodation
was rented - presumably the house was still the property of Mr. Grimmer. An L shaped house
with each half quite self contained. We only met Uncle Ralph and family very occasionally
on the stairs. I cannot remember the move but the years that followed were idyllic.

We moved to Commerce House late in 1930. A large house with most
of our portion at the front of the building. Our sitting room was adjoining and to the
right of the shop. A long spacious room with the hall and front door our usual path of
entry. Behind our sitting room was another large room, obviously originally used for
business with wooden workbenches and fixtures on three sides, expect in the corner where
the sink and pump were installed. This became our dining room and children's bathroom. In
the large area behind the shops, a small office had been constructed in one corner, but
the majority was a storage area for goods waiting to weighed and packed. Adjoining our
shop on the street side was Uncle Ralph's butchers shop. He and Aunt Connie had a large
sitting room at the front of the house to the right of our hall and accommodation, and
behind their sitting room was a large country style kitchen and a roomy walk-in pantry or
dairy. The staircase at the end of the hall led straight to Ralph and Connie's rather
grand bedroom (of which I caught occasional glimpses), and a small bedroom was close by. A
sharp right turn and a corridor led to our three bedrooms, again at the front, my parents'
room on the left, my sister Joyce and I directly opposite, and beyond our room was Barbara
with Mum's live in helper. The first of these young women was Beatrice Arnold from
Brandon. We all called her Beatie. I think we children were fairly easy to manage, and all
were fond of her. She would even take me home with her at times on her day off, when we
sometimes walked to Brandon. I had happy times with younger members of her family.

In the spring of 1931 business was satisfactory but Robert, with high hopes for the
future, decided to revive the country round. He bought a Ford van, fitted it out with
shelves and was able to collect orders and also to supply a variety of goods as he
journeyed on his round. Driving lessons were not compulsory in those days. A driving
licence would cost five shillings each year upon renewal but entitled him to drive a motor
vehicle of any class or description. (Do we assume that the car salesman gave a few tips
before the vehicle was driven off or perhaps you would be accompanied by a friend for a
while?)

I cannot remember the birth of my cousin Derek to Auntie Connie and Uncle Ralph. He
must have been a very good baby! I seemed to spend most of my time planning and organising
concerts and making costumes with crepe paper - what joy to go round to Polly Prior's shop
for the coloured paper. She would collect her key, then take me outside, and across the
open space to her storeroom next door. It was like Aladdin's cave in there, but each visit
was over all too soon.

I wonder why my most vivid memories of the big school at Feltwell are of indiscipline?
Probably not a daily occurrence but I shall never forget the trials of Miss Addison: a
group of boys in her class would react badly if she admonished one of their pals. They
banged their desk lids and stamped their heavy boots on the floor. Looking hot and
bothered but undeterred, she would order them to take off their boots, lending a hand to
ensure that it was done. I always feared that the mutineers would win, but they never did.
I don't recall problems in Mr. Davidson's class. He liked us to sing "Jerusalem"
each morning, and expected all of us to know the words. The Headmaster, Mr. Fassnidge
would use the cane without hesitation once his patience was exhausted, punishing a whole
section of the class (me included). The lessons I enjoyed the most were sewing with the
girls in the sunshine on the grassy slopes at the back of the school where we were
surrounded by clumps of valerian. Sometimes a few girls would go to Miss Addison's house
after school where we sat around the table winding the silk from our silkworm cocoons on
to cards. I also enjoyed the cookery lessons with Miss Pym in the Coronation Hall, where I
came top of the class with my rhubarb pudding and chocolate buns. I turned the pudding out
like Delia Smith with the pink juice spreading round the plate looking very
mouth-watering. The more usual distractions at school would be the tolling of the death
bell, and the one thing always guaranteed to disrupt our concentration - the sound and
sight of an aeroplane about to land. If our school day was over we would rush past the Elm
tree and up Lime Kiln Lane to the airfield. The pilot in his flying gear would be walking
round the aircraft, waiting for Mr. Brooks to arrive on his bicycle with a can of fuel.
This was a very exciting event for us.

As business prospered at Commerce House, our lifestyle became very enviable. I think
that seaside holidays were initiated by my Grandmother Harrison. She had taken her son
Victor to Lowestoft for convalescence as he recovered from rheumatic fever. My mother had
then decided to go by train to join them there. When we approached Lakenheath Station on
that day we saw the train pulling out. Robert turned the car and at breakneck speed set
out to catch up the train at Brandon! My mother shrieked and implored as we hurtled round
bends on that futile exercise.

However, we then went yearly to Lowestoft where Beaty was left in charge. My parents
went for short spells on their own, but there were also days out for all of us at Heacham.
Sometimes the car roof was folded down - excitedly we children would stand on the back
seat, and sit on the hood; but Robert would wait patiently, twirling the starting handle
and not budging until we were safely settled.

Our own back yard was a children's paradise. Opposite the double gates
and standing back was a long and substantial brick building incorporating a garage and
large slaughterhouse with outside stairs leading to a huge hayloft. A wonderful place to
plan concerts on wet days, with the children who lived close by. The garage was our
concert hall and we got the inspiration from the wonderful musicals at the Coronation Hall
cinema. Robert would playfully toot his horn and park outside on concert days. At the
right of the house was a long narrow vegetable garden, but stretching the full length of
the back of the property and on higher ground was a wide field. A few apple trees were
dotted about. Washing lines were attached to them on Mondays and washing propped up. The
wash house stood on the near edge of the grassy field. It was like a large beach hut where
dear Mrs. Barnes would sometimes do our washing, but more frequently we would deliver it
to her house. She had a hard and busy life, but was not to be pitied. Always cheerful,
resolute, wise and loving, I shall never forget her.

Our life at Commerce House in 1933 was happy and settled but it was now that our best
friend Beaty left, presumably to marry her boyfriend Basil Vincent? We loved little Alice
Colman who looked after us temporarily (I think a relative of Mrs. Barnes). Later, from
Fulmodestone, came Joy Wright. Straight from High School, she taught us some of the French
that she had learned. Slim, tall and dark haired we liked her immediately. Her pay was
five shillings a week with keep. During the year all three children needed medical
attention, but the usual earache, toothache or chilblains, but tonsils out in hospital for
me, Joyce with the top of her little finger cut off in the car door of a visiting
travelling salesman. Finally Barbara who caused great anxiety when she had a series of
abscesses on her neck. After three small operations at our house where Dr. Francis gave
her a whiff of chloroform each time and the district nurse came often to put hot lint
dressings on her neck. Dr. Francis called in a specialist. He prescribed a
"magic" ointment, it was not to be handled during treatment, but to be rubbed on
the neck with a glass tumbler. "It worked".

Joyce and I would visit our grandparents at Hockwold frequently, getting out our
bicycles and riding off along the Wilton Road to a home that was run like clockwork and
always welcoming. Granny Harrison was very special to us, calm, quiet and constant. She
was never given to great shows of affection, but somehow we gave and received a lot of
undeclared love and were always happy to be with her. Our grandfather Harrison was a busy
man, of regular habits and few words, but admired from a distance. Although children said
very little at mealtimes he would usher us out of the room after tea in case we
interrupted the weather forecast on the wireless. We played in the farmyard and the
harvest fields in Mill Lane with two of our girl cousins who lived nearby, and could not
have been happier.